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The Fall of the Wall and Cinema
By Laurent Rejto
In
1982, while in Hungary on a theater/film internship, I had the pleasure of
meeting Istvan Szabo, the renowned Hungarian filmmaker. I
was mindful that the
Hungarians were serious about the art of filmmaking and that they strove to make
films that explored social conflict rather than genre. As a film student who
wanted to change the world, Szabo’s inner personal depth and Miklos Jancso’s
vision and technique inspired me more than anything I was being taught in
school. While most thesis films at the School of Visual Arts in New York paid
homage to Brian Depalma or Steven Spielberg, Jancso influenced mine. The
decision to focus on artistic expression and social conflict over commercial
filmmaking probably limited my career options. Lets just say that Hollywood
didn’t come calling. As it turns out, artistic expression and social conflict
would also backfire on the Hungarian film industry.
Graham Petrie’s “History Must Answer to Man” accurately states the fact that Hungarian cinema, ‘by the early 70’s was acknowledged as the most consistently interesting in Eastern Europe and one of the more significant features in European cinema as a whole.’ Mr. Petrie, in his book about contemporary Hungarian Cinema also states that on the whole, Hungarian Cinema has been ignored by the English speaking world or at the very least misunderstood and misinterpreted. The author attributes this to ‘the notorious cultural laziness, blindness and arrogance of Anglo Saxon society.’ Being of Hungarian descent, I decided to take sides with the misunderstood. I seized the moment with Istvan Szabo and asked him if he was embarrassed about winning the Academy Award for “Mephisto”. As soon as the words had left my lips, I was embarrassed for asking what may have been the stupidest question ever asked. Still, the position I had taken was against Hollywood. My alliance was set in stone with the Hungarians and all the other ‘foreign’ filmmakers struggling to make art in an ever-increasing commodity market. On a recent visit to Hungary to stir up interest in a film adaptation of the novel “The Reluctant Adventurer” (my father’s autobiographical account of life in Hungary from 1939 through 1956) I was curious to find out how the fall of the Iron Curtain had affected the Hungarian Film Industry. I quickly found that the collapse of communism had left a deep mark on the once prolific industry. An average of twenty-five films a year, were made in Hungary until nineteen eighty-eight. By contrast, six films were made last year.
Hungarians have always looked to the west with a romantic hankering for the wealth and affluence it seems to afford, but from time immemorial, the country has remained confined. Hungary has always been a gateway between invading forces from the east and the west, and isolated by its Finnish-Ugrian language which is neither Slavic nor Latin in origin. It is Hungary’s convoluted history and the people’s pride in their language that makes one a Magyar more than anything else.
The Hungarian Film Industry was formed in nineteen forty-eight when the country was under the control of a Soviet-sponsored provisional government. Early filmmakers mostly examined the land and the people through a historical, nationalistic perspective. Over the next decades, several new waves of filmmaking broke ranks with tradition around the world. The neo-realists in Italy emerged from the ashes of fascism and the French ‘nouvelle vague’ emerged with the educational turbulence of an age when revolt and graffiti were in the streets. The Hungarian new wave emerged ten years after the nineteen fifty-six anti-Soviet uprising in which hundreds of Hungarians were massacred or imprisoned. Two hundred thousand others fled the country. Under the auspices of a satellite government, which slowly liberalized social restrictions, the industry ran like a well-oiled Hollywood Film Studio or, some might say, a propaganda machine. What made so many films of the post revolutionary era so exciting was the sub-context of many of the films. Through symbolism and allegory, many of the young filmmakers snubbed the very system, which was paying for the ‘propaganda’. What audiences saw were films like Jancso’s “the Red and the White” and Szabo’s “Budapest tales”. These and other films internalized the struggle of a people against the government and foreign occupation.
In 1944, the Germans occupied Hungary whose government had begun secret talks with the British in an effort to dissociate itself from the Nazis. Twelve years later, Russian tanks squelched Hungarian independence. Under the Russian occupation, Hungarians eventually managed to cope better than most of the other Iron Curtain satellites. They became the richest of the communist countries and many citizens enjoyed a system, which paid them to ‘sleep at their government jobs’ while allowing them to work for extra money on the side. In the arts, a bond was created between artist and audience. There was always a sign, an indication, a wink, a scoff at the system. The audience was in on the joke. The same held for film. Though each film needed to be approved by the ministry of culture, the films never lacked social commentary. Szabo made reference to personal themes and present day strife while Jancso explored anonymity, power, humiliation and the senselessness of war often by using the Russians themselves as his subjects (as in the Red and the White).
If there is to be a ‘new’ Hungarian New Wave, Hungarian filmmakers will have to deal with the western invasion. In November of nineteen eighty-nine, the Berlin wall finally crumbled. While the East Germans contemplated opening their borders to the West, the Hungarians opened theirs to allow East Germans access to the West via Hungarian soil. Soon after, the floodgates opened and the iron curtain was pulled asunder. McDonalds and Burger King replaced many of the old style coffeehouses and restaurants. Part of the Nugatyi train station (designed by Gustave Eiffel) in central Budapest was converted into what is now the largest McDonalds in Hungary. A mall built by Canadian and American interests recently opened next door. With free market reforms in 1990, the country transferred state-owned companies to private ownership. As it turns out, it was mostly foreign ownership. Even the Hungarian Telephone Company was sold off to an Austrian corporation. Now Daewoo, Nokia, Ericson and others scramble to plaster billboards across the skyline. Hungary has finally become part of the west but at what price? What was the wealthiest communist country is now one of the poorest in comparison to the European market. With capitalism as the invader, Hungarians try to come to terms with the European market and globalism.
The average cost of a feature length film in Hungary is $500,000. This money, which was funded by the government under communist rule, is now left up to aspiring filmmakers who must first clear the obstacles of the Budapest Academy of Film Arts. Each year, 350 students apply for a chance to train in a four-year program as director, cameraman or editor. The applicants are put through a rigorous three-month test during which they are drilled with written and oral examinations. The finalists are re-tested and asked to make a film. From the 350 applicants, eight are chosen for the director’s class. Once they have completed their degrees, they enter into a post graduate program to complete their first feature. Directors are expected to first write their own screenplay. Then, these chosen few are faced with the innocuous task of raising funds from a series of available grants, private funds and the ‘new’ commercial market place. It’s easy to understand why the academy recently added a class for producers.
Though $500,000 may seem small amount to raise for a high quality 35mm film production, it is nearly impossible to recoup such an investment. While Star Wars and Notting Hill pull in large crowds, Hungarian art films average an audience of 2,000 people. At a cost of 400 forints per person, that adds up to about $5,000. Try selling those terms to your investor. Established stage actor and filmmaker Andras Kern, considered by many as the Hungarian Woody Allen, finds himself in the same hole as younger filmmakers. Mr. Kern turned to corporate sponsors for funding of his 1996 film “Strataciella”. “ I was told to go to Daewoo, a car manufacturer that wanted to enter the Hungarian marketplace. I went to the Korean trade consulate at 4:30 in the afternoon and met with a secretary but it was the wrong secretary because the regular secretary had the flu so I was asked to go home. I went back two weeks later and met the regular secretary who asked me ‘who the hell are you?’ It was hard for me because I’m known here, but in Korea, they don’t know who the hell I am. I told them I was a Hungarian director who needed money. The head of the office was on the phone from four until six and I was sitting there but I needed to be in the theater at seven [for a performance]. At six thirty, the head of the office came out and said, ‘who the hell are you?’ I asked the secretary to explain who the hell I was but she had forgotten. The boss made another phone call in Korean and it was already seven-fifteen and the play had started at seven. Eventually, after the play, I had dinner with the boss. At midnight, after a nice dinner, he turned to me and asked why I came to him instead of going straight to Daewoo. So I went to Daewoo and they said, ‘who the hell are you?” In the end, Daewoo gave the Strataciella production four cars for use in the movie and about five thousand dollars.
For his most recent film, Mr. Kern chose an easier route. With
Hungarian/American producer Andrew Vajna (Nixon, Die Hard With A
Vengeance, Evita) Mr. Kern chose an English play, “The Minister Misteps” as the
subject of his film. With pre-sales to the west and subsidies from Kodak,
Adidas, Pizza Hut, Volkswagon, Seagrams and other corporate sponsors, the budget
was accumulated and, according to Mr. Kern, the movie has even made a profit.
Other Hungarian filmmakers have turned to foreign investors such as CIBY 2000,
Canal+ and others but in return, the storylines have been westernized, the
dialogue is often in English or French and the locations are split between
countries. Ildiko Enyedi’s critically acclaimed “Simon Magus” was shot almost
entirely in Paris and a good forty percent of the film is spoken in French. When I went to see the film, a sign by
the cash register warned that most of the film was in French and that there were
no subtitles. Istvan Szabo’s “The Taste of Sunshine” was produced by Robert
Lantos and Andras Hamori of Alliance Communications Corporation based in
Toronto, Canada. ‘The Taste of Sunshine’ tells the gripping story of a family
that rises from humble origins to positions of wealth and power, only to fall
victim to the events, which defined Europe over the past century. Although the
picture is set in Hungary, it was produced in English and stars non-Hungarians,
Ralph Fiennes, Molly Parker and William Hurt.
Hungary is not unfamiliar with foreign filmmaking. Expatriates have had a major influence on filmmaking throughout the world. At one point, from the twenties through the forties when Hungarians like Michael Curtis (Casablanca), the Korda Borthers and Adolph Zukor (the founder of Paramount Studios), ruled Hollywood. During those heydays, it was said that all you needed to do to break into Hollywood was to be Hungarian. Expatriates from the 1956 uprising also made a mark. Producer Andrew Vajna (Nixon, Lethal Weapon), Peter Medak (The Ruling Class, Let Him Have It), Joe Eszterhas (Flashdance, Basic Instinct) have established major careers outside of Hungary. Additionally, world class cinematographers like Vilmos Zsigmond and Lazlo Kovacs (all trained at the Budapest Academy for the Film Arts) have left an indelible mark on film screens throughout the world. What is foreign is the concept that now Hungarian films themselves will be foreign. Isolationism is no longer an economic viability.
Many are afraid that the ‘new’ Hungarian filmmakers will be made up of entrepreneurs and that for the first time, creativity will take a backseat to fundraising. Andras Kern doesn’t delineate between art films and commercial films. He states that they are either good or bad and that the differentiation is form of critical snobbery. In the end, it is the lack of audience support and the proliferation of international films playing in Hungarian theaters that is most unsavory to him. “You raise money for four, five years. You make your film and 2,000 people see it –so what? Instead, the people go to see Star Wars.”
Several recent graduates from the Budapest Academy of Film Art admitted that
they are completely unprepared for this new aspect of
filmmaking. Csaba Fazekas
(26) has already given up on the idea of adapting his favorite Dostoyevsky novel
to screen because period pieces are too expensive. Instead his first feature
will focus on college students in a dormitory. He hopes to be able to produce
the film for 30,000,000 forints ($125,000). He also hopes to find a producer who
can do all the financial work. “I want to concentrate on the story and on every
frame,” he told me. As far as using English instead of Hungarian as the primary
language, that where he draws the line. Csaba, perplexed as he is, is
nevertheless confident. He sees the advent of DV technology as a help and with
several other graduates, he is pooling his money to purchase an Apple G4 with
editing capabilities. Csaba is also comfortable with the fact that he can turn
to television for employment.
History, the staple of Hungarian cinema, now presents an obstacle. Director
Diana Groo (26) explains that today’s filmmakers are searching for new topics
and new stories and that they are not allowed to retell the stories of the past.
“We are the third generation after World War II. Our parent’s generation could
talk about communism and they were closer to their parents war experience. For
us to talk about the past is very unusual. As a result, our generation is not
just searching for money, but also for an identity and topics that will appeal
to a broad audience. We no longer have a common landscape. Everybody is
searching to express him or herself. The style of a 1990’s director has to be
completely different from Szabo, Makk, Jancso, Elek or Rozsa.”
What sets Diana apart from many of her colleagues is the fact that she is Jewish and that her heritage still carries plenty of baggage in Hungary. “The Prime Minister,” Diana recalls “recently said that only those who follow the Christian-Hungarian tradition and are proud of the states foundation are Hungarian.” As a result of this continued conflict, Diana aspires to continue the socially relevant trend of Hungarian filmmaking. History must indeed answer to man. Diana sees her heritage as an asset, an inner conflict that translates to story. When the iron curtain came down, she along with many young Jewish Hungarians immigrated to Israel but there, Diana felt too comfortable. “To be Jewish in Israel is different. It’s like, I’m here – it’s okay. I don’t have a conflict any longer. I started to miss the conflict. It was my identity. To be Jewish in Budapest is much more interesting because you have to fight.” It’s no surprise that Diana chose this struggle as the topic for her stories. She recently came to New York with a documentary on the former Jewish Ghetto in Budapest and she is currently working on a documentary about the young Hungarian Jews who emigrated to Israel only to return to Hungary. For her feature, Ms. Groo is developing a love story about a chance encounter between a Jewish girl from Budapest and a Jewish man from New York. The film will compare the bonds of heritage via New York and Budapest.
“I hope that my film will change things. For the past twenty years, Hungarian films have been sad and confusing. I’m optimistic that will change. I know Hungarian people want to see Hungarian films and I look forward to making them.”
Gyorgy Palfi (26) – long haired and thin struggles to express himself in English but the smirk of sarcasm around his lips expresses as much about the themes of his film as his words. Gyorgy’s film is a modern tale about a couple living in today’s Budapest. “They eat, work, go home, go to McDonalds, the mall – they’re fed up - but in the end, they can only continue to repeat the cycle.”
Gabor Fischer (32) is the oldest member of the graduating class. His hollow eyes
and sleek Transylvannian-like mannerisms bring
Bela Lugosi to mind. His English
is terrible, probably due to the fact that English as a language was not taught
in primary schools until the late 1980’s. Controversy and provocation are the
topics Gabor wishes to explore. The subject of his recent film was Adolf Hitler.
“In my film, it is January of 1939 and Hitler has a vision about the future in
the stars in the sky and the planets. He’s with his lover, Eva Braun, and he
tells her that there are intelligent beings in the sky. The film is a
provocation because in the film, Hitler is a great man with great dreams and of
course, we know what happened after March. The conflict is this knowledge set
against the films story. Gabor, who sites Hal Hartley as a favorite American
director, hopes to use common dialogue within characters and settings that are
askew, to challenge the audience.
Daniel Erdilyi who looks like he just came out of a Pearl Jam concert with his tufted hair and a goatee, explains that his education at the Academy was traditional. “Right now, Hungarian people don’t like Hungarian films. They prefer American films. Our plan is to represent the new generation – the new wave. But we want to make films in Hungarian and the way we make films, it’s not allowed to think commercial. It must be art.”
New and established Hungarian filmmakers alike hope that a new ‘film law’ will lessen the economic crisis of the Hungarian Film Industry. The law, which would collect a 1% to 3% tax from international film distributors exhibiting films in Hungary, would fund Hungarian filmmaking. “We have to hope,” says Daniel, “that we can get money from the government like in the old communist times. We also need to look to the European community and new television stations for support.”
Television support has been strong. All the directors from the graduating class including Csaba, Diana, Gyorgy, Gabor and Daniel were given an opportunity last year to direct a television series, one episode per director. The crew was all-professional and the series went on to be a critical success.
As I head away from the Film Academy to have dinner at my cousin’s apartment, I’m optimistic that the government and the new television stations will carry the culture forward. As I scan the television in my cousin’s living room, I notice that there are indeed, many new television stations. Sixteen years ago, there was just one government regulated station. Now, you can watch Dallas, Dynasty, The Simpsons, Beavis and Butthead, Southpark, Allie McBeal - all in Hungarian - or, if you prefer you can watch Seinfeld in German on the German station. And of course, there’s the Cartoon Network, which is also dubbed in Hungarian. I can only imagine what the future will bring if all children throughout the world are raised with a homogenized culture. Just as the thought crosses my mind, my cousin’s twelve year old son, Andras, looks up at me from the couch where he lays prone and he points at the television and utters the universal words of wisdom – “Scooby Doobie Do”.